


More of Us

by static_abyss



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Past Relationship(s), Prompt Fill, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/static_abyss/pseuds/static_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a blonde girl sitting on one the benches surrounding the fountain on Columbus Circle. She's tiny from the distance, and she looks so much like Chadara that Mira has to look away, remind herself that not all the blondes in New York City are Chadara. </p><p>That, actually, none of the blondes in New York City are Chadara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> This fic was written for amorekay/alemonlemoned's _amazing_ famix which you can listen to [here](http://8tracks.com/amorekay/city-girl). And by can, I mean do. Actually listen to the songs and cry about how well they fit Mira and Chadara.
> 
> Many thanks to R (thellamaduo @ tumblr) for reading this over for me and helping with a troublesome scene. And as always, so much thanks to theswearingkind who was the first person to read this before it was finished, and who loves this fic with me. This fic would not be the same without her support when I needed it the most.

The Columbus Circle mall has glass doors and wide windows. There's a blast of cool air against Mira's face when she walks in, the high ceiling above her making her feel small even though she's level with most of the people who walk by. There's a large statue of a naked man to the left guarding the escalators to the second floor. That's where she'd wait for Chadara, right next to the statue, always nervous and waiting for the phone call letting her know that Chadara had changed her mind.

She stands there, under the high ceiling, watching the people passing. There are two girls laughing, shoulders bumping, and bags rustling together. Mira looks away, her eyes trailing over the booths selling purses and phone cases in front of her. There are no chairs for Mira to sit on, so she moves, brushes past the two girls giggling as they link their arms. When they notice Mira staring, the girls move away, casting anxious glances over their shoulders.

Mira half smiles as she makes her way up the escalators, the elevator to her left, and the candle store to her right. Upstairs there are three stores in front of her where the escalator lets out, but Mira turns away from them. She's not a fan of Forever 21 or Strawberry, though she thinks she might have been if she'd met Chadara earlier.

There are a few people spread out along the railing in front of Mira, the one that looks out onto the floor below and the floor-to-ceiling windows at the exit. She leans her elbows on the railing and stares out at the giant fountain on Columbus Circle—just a circular slab of pavement blocking traffic. An entrance to Central Park is just past the fountain to the left. Mira stares at the few trees that peek out past buildings in front of the park, past the traffic, and the crowded streets. She realizes that she and Chadara have never actually been to Central Park.

Mira lets her eyes wander so that she won't remember that she's the only person still leaning on the rail. There's a blonde girl sitting on one the benches surrounding the fountain on Columbus Circle. The girl has on a pretty dress, her hands fighting the wind to keep her loose hair in place. She's tiny from the distance, and she looks so much like Chadara that Mira has to look away, remind herself that not all the blondes in New York City are Chadara.

That, actually, none of the blondes in New York City are Chadara. 

*******************************

Mira's standing on the corner of 40th street and 7th avenue in heels, a pencil skirt, and huddled into a sweater. The water gets into her shoes, makes each step she takes down the street, past the wide billboards and bright store signs, harder. She's walking slow, not sure how she got so far from the Bank of America business offices on 5th avenue. She walks out into the street listening to the splashes the yellow taxi cab wheels make as they stop. 

Mira makes her way towards the subway station on 8th avenue, eyes straight ahead, her strides long, moves almost automatically so that she doesn't bump into the people passing her on the street. It's early on a Monday, the usual rush of people reduced to a few tourists brave enough to go out in the rain. There's a man with a camera around his neck who keeps looking down at his phone and then up at the New York Times building.

When Mira passes him, the man gives her a small smile. Mira nods, too small for the man to catch it, and keeps going.

She gets to Port Authority, ignoring the calls from the cab drivers right outside the sliding automatic doors. It's too cold inside, and Mira shivers in her wet clothes, fingers freezing as she makes her way past the vendors. She takes the stairs to the left of the high-ceilinged room, past the guy who likes to wave around the purses he's selling. 

She sees the girl just as she's passing the bakery whose name she can never remember, the one that sells the cold sandwiches and the mediocre coffee. The girl is standing outside of the Greyhound buses ticket booths, a book in her hand, and looking around at the people walking around inside Port Authority. She has on a brown and yellow sundress, her long blonde hair loose down her back, a purse thrown over her left shoulder, and a sweater hanging from it.

She's pretty, prettier up close as Mira walks by. She glances at the girl, catches the greenish blue eyes that might be gray, and tries to keep going. The girl moves forward though, smile lighting up her friendly face. She's got beautiful red cheeks, smooth skin, and a playful gleam in her eyes.

"Excuse me," she says. "Do you know which way I have to walk to get to Times Square?"

Mira shivers in her wet clothes, but nods. "Yeah," she tells the girl. "You get out through the doors on your right and walk straight until you hit the tall buildings with the flashing signs."

"Thanks," she says. "I'm new here. Just moved in with a friend I knew from high school."

"Oh?" Mira asks, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. 

"Yeah," the girl goes on. "I like it here. The whole feel of it, you know. Like everyone has a purpose, somewhere to be."

Mira nods and starts walking towards the escalators near the exit that lead to the subway. To her annoyance, the girl follows, her bag bouncing off her hip. She walks close enough that Mira is breathing in her flowery perfume.

"You're wet," the girl says when she gets too close and brushes against Mira.

"It's raining," Mira says, and takes longer strides.

The girl keeps pace, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders as she does. "You can't go into the subway like that," she says. "You'll get sick."

"I'm okay."

Mira makes for the escalators leading down to the subway lines, sees the line of people already there, and stops. The girl stops with her.

"Here," the girl says, holding out her sweater. "If you're going to sit in that air conditioner with wet hair, take this."

Mira looks at the light blue knitted sweater, at the girl's sundress and sandals. "I can't," Mira says. "You need it."

"I don't," the girl assures her. "You take it, get home, and you can give it to me some other day."

"I don't know you," Mira says, frowning.

"Yes, you do," the girl tells her, pushing the sweater into Mira's hands. "My name is Chadara. And you are?"

"Mira."

Chadara winks. "Nice to meet you Mira," she says. "There's a restaurant on 39th street, between 8th and 9th avenues. I'm going there tomorrow at one."

With that, Chadara takes off, her bag bouncing at her side, her head turning in every direction. There are people brushing past Mira, but she's too busy watching Chadara's back disappear into the crowd to notice. Mira's not sure what to make of the girl, though she's glad for the sweater once she gets to the subway station. If the faint smell of rose perfume is comforting, Mira is the only one who knows.

It isn't until Mira's home, that she realizes, she never asked Chadara which restaurant she meant. She tells herself she isn't disappointed, that there can't possibly be that many food places on one street between two avenues, and by the time Mira goes to bed, she almost believes it. 

*******************************

Mira's not supposed to cry, because people don't cry in public, but she thinks there's reason enough now. The Columbus Mall statue is standing below her, right in front of the huge windows, more than thirty feet of transparency. Everyone can see Mira hiding above it all, waiting for a girl who isn't going to show up, alone in the large mall.

If Nasir or Naevia knew, they'd tell Mira that she's a masochist, but she isn't. She just misses Chadara, misses her in a way that she'd never missed Spartacus, and Mira hates it. 

*******************************

Mira shows up to the party in honor of Spartacus's promotion on Spartacus's arm, her black evening gown complementing his dark suit, the gold bracelets on her wrist matching his tie. They don't even have to look at each other as they make their way across the room to Naevia and Nasir because Spartacus knows Mira is most comfortable with them. There are a couple of business executives who make to stop Spartacus as he and Mira make their way past, but no one comes to talk to them. 

Mira is glad when they make it to Naevia and Nasir, her wide smile matching the one on Nasir's face. 

"You look beautiful," he tells her. 

"Thank you," Mira says, leaning forward to hug him first, then Naevia. "You both look great."

Naevia shakes Spartacus's hand and sends him off to talk to Crixus and the other business partners in the room.

"You make a beautiful couple," Naevia tells Mira once Spartacus is gone. "He really likes you."

Mira looks over to where Spartacus is talking to Gannicus, probably trying to convince him to help Spartacus buy Capua Inc. for themselves. Spartacus looks over almost as though he can feel her eyes on him. His smile is wide for her, his slight nod enough for Gannicus to ask him something. Mira knows what the question is, though she can never be sure of what Spartacus will answer.

They are together most nights, after work, or in between for lunch. Spartacus has taken her on vacation to Canada. He pushes her chair in for her, tells all his friends that Mira is the best thing that's ever happened to him. So Mira lets herself believe that what they have is something big, something as serious to him as it is to her. She never lets it bother her that she doesn't know his parents, that when they first started this they'd both agreed this wasn't serious. She doesn't remember when she stopped being afraid that he would leave her. 

-

Spartacus leaves her on a Friday afternoon. He tells her politely that with his new promotion it would be inappropriate to continue their relationship. He says he's very sorry, looks sorry enough for Mira to just let him talk. She sits through his apologies feeling detached and numb. When Spartacus leaves, she calls Nasir. 

They go to an Irish pub on 2nd avenue in Manhattan, with low lighting and a TV going on in the background. The bartender is a middle aged man who smiles so much that Mira starts sending Nasir to get the drinks. She's not in the mood for smiles, can't deal with anything besides the beer in front of her.

"It hurts," Mira tells Nasir.

She can feel her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she looks from Nasir's sympathetic face to the stupid Blue Moon label on her beer. 

"I fucking hate him," she says. "Him and his stupid Blue fucking Moon."

Nasir puts a hand on top of Mira's, his thumb rubbing the back of her knuckles. The small bit of contact makes Mira's beer get stuck in her throat, and then she's fighting back the urge to scream and cry. The pub is starting to fill up with the post work rush, but Mira knows no one would see her if she cried. She doesn't though. She's not the kind of girl to break down in public because her boy—because her friend dumped her.

"He used to bring me a pack," she goes on, and Nasir knows not to interrupt. "He'd come over Friday night after work, with his pack of Blue Moon and we'd watch whatever was on TV. He used to stay the fucking weekend. Who does that? What person tells you that they don't want anything serious and then comes over to your house and...and just makes it fucking _theirs_."

"He's an asshole," Nasir says.

Mira laughs, chokes on it. "He told me we weren't serious in the beginning, but I thought that him coming over, that his shit in my _home_ meant he wanted it to be. He was so fucking polite, Nasir. It pissed me off so much I threw all his things away after he left."

"You should have punched him in the face."

Mira's smile is half-hearted. She picks at the label on her beer, takes a drink, barely tasting the bitterness. 

"I thought he was it," she says. "He was everything my mom wanted, the perfect fucking husband. He had a good job. I had a good job. We would have been able to move to Westchester county, buy one of those old houses with too much space. Our children would have been beautiful. Our life would have been perfect."

"Perfect is overrated, love," Nasir says, shifting his chair over to her side. 

Mira leans her head onto Nasir's shoulder, closing her eyes when he puts his head on top of hers. "No it isn't," she says. "You know it isn't."

-

Mira isn't afraid of guys, because she can handle them. She's afraid of girls because they're soft skin and softer eyes, wicked gleam hidden under years of pretending to be who society dictates they should be. Mira's always been afraid that she won't be able to tell which part is the real one. (She's never stopped to think about which part of her is the real one, either). She just doesn't fall in love with girls anymore.

The first time she did, she was thirteen, awkward hair and braces on top of the first bursts of acne. Jaime was her best friend, tall and blond, gorgeous in a way that made Mira envious. When Mira told Jaime that she loved her, her friend frowned and said, "Girls are supposed to like guys, Mira."

The last time Mira fell in love with a girl, she was seventeen. That girl was also tall, with big blue eyes, and dark curls. She was wild, rolling hips and heated make-outs in the back of the high school. She was wandering hands, and parties after dark, dangerous heat on Mira's body. Mira had given her everything, and when high school ended and college came, she lost everything.

So Mira doesn't love girls, or tries not to. Boys she has always been able to handle, so of course, it figures that it's a boy who's broken her now. She's had the sleepless nights, the tears in the middle of a song, and she's tired of it. She's tired of being sad, of having a crappy job, of being pushed down constantly by everything. Then, there's the fact that she's worked at her job for years, has more than enough qualifications, but still gets passed over for the promotions.

It's the weight of everything and the dreams where she can still see Spartacus's green eyes. She thinks that's why she quits, right in the middle of her boss's speech about equality, and how four female department heads in a company this large means this is a good place for women to work. 

"Fuck this," she says, and at the end of the day, even walking through the rain, Mira knows it's worth it. 

-

It's been a few weeks since Spartacus left her, and Naevia means well by inviting Mira to the dinner party she and her husband, Crixus, are hosting. Mira knows that Naevia and Nasir assume that, now that Mira doesn't have a job, she's just locked away in her apartment, moping. She gets it, because if it weren't for Chadara that's exactly what she'd be doing. Mira appreciates their thoughtfulness, loves them for caring so much, but she also wants to let them know that their concern is unfounded. She figures that the best way to do it is by taking someone with her, which is how she and Chadara end up walking to Naevia's place at six on a Friday afternoon.

Chadara isn't even nervous, their arms linked as they walk to Naevia's apartment, down the Park Slope neighborhood in Brooklyn. The streets are empty, everyone locked away with their kids until eight o'clock on the dot tomorrow. Mira was one of these people, or halfway to being like them. She had her schedule, her familiar routine, always on time, never too late or too early. 

"I'd be good here," she tells Chadara as they walk down 13th street. 

"There aren't too many trees for you?" Chadara teases.

Mira looks down the street. It's darker on these streets from how close the trees are to each other, colder as the wind blows through the tunnel the trees create. The three floor brownstones with their four steps and gates line both sides of the streets. There aren't enough trees, Mira thinks. 

"Kids need oxygen," she says.

"You want kids?" Chadara asks, her voice so quiet that Mira has to lean in to hear clearly.

Mira shrugs, tries to forget the conversation she had with Spartacus before he left her.

"I want to have kids, someday," he'd said. "Just not now."

The "not with you" had been more than implied.

"I want to have kids," Mira says, looking at Chadara, at the blonde hair and the soft look on Chadara's face. Just looking at Chadara is a relief, a reminder that Mira isn't with Spartacus anymore, doesn't have to hurt anymore.

"I like kids," Chadara says, unlinking their arms to take Mira's hand.

They walk down the block holding hands, shoulders brushing whenever Chadara pulls Mira over to the side to look at the organic coffee shops, or the little arts and crafts store, the tiny children's bookstore stocked with biodegradable books.

They're fifteen minutes late to Naevia's brownstone apartment, and when Mira tries to apologize, Naevia rolls her eyes and ushers her in. Chadara introduces herself as Mira's friend to Naevia and Crixus, then to the others. Chadara meets Saxa, flirts endlessly with Gannicus, laughs with Pietros, and even gets Barca to smile. Mira is impressed. 

The only time things get weird is when Mira introduces Chadara to Nasir. Chadara stares at him for so long that Nasir starts to get uncomfortable, but eventually, Chadara just smiles and shakes his hand. She finds a guy named Duro in the kitchen sometime after that, introduces him to Mira as her friend, and stays to catch up.

Mira leaves her to it, wanders back to her friends. The next time Mira looks up, it's been hours and she can't see Chadara anywhere. She excuses herself, but Naevia just nods towards the apartment door.

Chadara is outside, sitting on the steps, her head on Duro's shoulder. 

"Hey," Mira says. 

Chadara looks up, her eyes half closing as she yawns. 

"Tired?" Mira asks. "Want to go home?"

"Yeah," Chadara nods. "I could go home."

Duro gets up, helps Chadara to her feet, and nods at Mira. "I'll see you," he says kissing Chadara on the cheek.

"Be good," Chadara tells him. "But not too good."

Duro laughs, and goes back inside. 

"He seems nice," Mira comments, reaching out to take Chadara's hand and pull her up the steps to the brownstone entrance. 

"He _is_ nice," Chadara agrees, her smile wicked as she steps closer to Mira. "Jealous?" 

Mira makes to answer when Nasir walks out. He smiles in Chadara's direction, and she nods in response.

"Mira," Nasir says. "Can I just talk to you for a minute?"

Chadara smiles, lets go of Mira's hand, and leaves through the little gate at the front of the apartments. Mira stays on top of the steps with Nasir. He's frowning when he looks at her, his eyes pitying, the way they were for days after she broke up with Spartacus.

"Hey, I know it's none of my business," he says, his expression serious. "I get that you like to do things your way, and I respect that. But you didn't like it when Spartacus made things seem more serious than they were. Don't do that to her."

"What are you talking about?" Mira asks, her heart beating away in her chest, the way it still sometimes does when someone mentions Spartacus.

"The way she looks at you," Nasir says. "She likes you, Mira. She'd probably be good for you, but don't just get into a relationship because you can. Really think about it."

"I got it," Mira says, frowning at Nasir.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at her, sympathy written into all the lines on his face.

"Okay," she says. "I got it, I promise."

"All right," Nasir nods. "Good."

-

"You won't tell me about him, your ex-boyfriend," Chadara says.

They're sitting in Mira's living room, on the black leather futon that Mira found on amazon.com. Chadara's hair is tied back into a ponytail that's digging into Mira's thigh and it's uncomfortable for both of them. They don't move though, and even though Chadara isn't looking at her, Mira can feel those eyes like a judgement. 

"There's nothing to say."

Chadara goes still on Mira's lap. She's quiet and Mira is glad that the conversation is over. She just wants to go back to watching America's Next Top Model, wants to get annoyed that she likes it so much and complain about it to Chadara. She likes the peace that comes with that, knowing that there's order in her life, that she has a routine she can follow. It's a good way to avoid mistakes, both in work and with Chadara.

"I saw him," Chadara whispers just as Mira's getting lost in the show again. "You have a picture of the two of you in the back of your wallet. He's good looking."

"You shouldn't go through my stuff," Mira says, her tone hard. "It's rude."

"Did you love him?"

Mira keeps her eyes on Tyra Banks dancing around on TV. Chadara is quiet, but Mira knows the conversation isn't over. It's never that easy.

"What do you want me to say?" she asks finally.

Mira can feel Chadara shrug against her legs. "I just want to know more about you. I don't know much, and he was a big part of you if you still keep his picture in your wallet."

"I loved him," Mira answers, her eyes on the wall above the TV. There's a pen mark on the light yellow paint, and Mira makes a mental note to clean it off later.

"And you don't love him anymore?"

Mira thinks about it.

"I promise I won't even be mad," Chadara whispers.

Mira looks down at Chadara on her lap, at the wide earnest eyes. "No," she says. "Not anymore."

-

There's no question that Mira likes Chadara.

"I do like you," Mira says, repeats it at the disbelieving look on Chadara's face. "You're not afraid to tell me what's wrong about me."

Chadara nods, lifts her hands up, and moves away. "I'm not your punishment," she whispers. 

"It's not that."

But it is. Sort of. Mira likes Chadara because Chadara is honest, almost blunt. She tells Mira things that Mira knew about herself but was never brave enough to accept. It had been annoying at first. It's just terrifying now. 

Mira likes her, but Mira isn't ready for more. No matter how much she wants to be. When she closes her eyes at night, she can still feel lingering kisses from all the girls she's dated. She can still hear Spartacus's apology, his remorse even though he _told_ Mira that he wasn't looking for anything serious. The worst part is that Mira can't even blame him because she knew. She fucking _knew_ and she still let herself fall, let herself believe that she wasn't just a lay. 

She wishes she was ready for this with Chadara, wishes that she could just fall into those frustrating eyes that aren't even blue, but can't be green either. Hazel is always inappropriate, and Mira wishes she could spend hours just lying in bed with Chadara and not wondering what else she's supposed to be doing. She wishes she could give back just a little bit of what Chadara has given her, the kisses in the back of movie theaters, the wild freedom in the middle of Times Square. 

Mira knows that if she just concentrates, if she fights hard enough against all the emptiness from before, she can do this. She can love Chadara the way that girl deserves, and she wants to try. Fuck everything, but Mira wants to try, because there's potential there, and she can see herself waking up to Chadara in the kitchen. She can see herself walking into her bedroom and seeing Chadara lying there with a book open on her stomach. And it all hits some part of Mira that just _wants_ , a part of her that doesn't want to be alone anymore. So she says whatever she can to keep Chadara, because Mira won't lose the potential. 

She can't.

"It's not that," Mira says, her hand reaching for Chadara. "You're not a punishment. You're more. You're just frustrating and I didn't know what to do with you. And now, I'm just scared because you got me on the first try, and if you don't think that's terrifying."

Mira trails off. She glances at Chadara, sees the sadness on Chadara's face.

"What am I exactly, Mira? What are we?"

"We're...us," she says, not knowing what Chadara is getting at. 

Chadara bites her bottom lip and nods, the corners of her mouth downturned. She turns her head away from Mira, twists her mouth to the side, and blinks rapidly a few times. "Okay," Chadara whispers. "We're us."

"Yeah," Mira sighs, moving forward to cup Chadara's face in her hands. She tilts Chadara's chin up, searches her face for any sign of anger. She doesn't find any and the knot in Mira's chest loosens, disappears when she presses their foreheads together and breathes in the citrus from Chadara's new body wash.

"Yeah, babe," Mira says over and over, as she shuts her eyes against the fading panic.

One of Chadara's hands comes to wrap around Mira's wrist. She traces the veins on the inside of Mira's wrist before stepping forward into Mira's arms. Chadara's arms are tight around Mira's neck, her face tucked into Mira's hair. They stand there, slotted together so well that Mira imagines she can hear Chadara's heart beating against her own. Their breaths even out together, and then Chadara takes Mira to bed. 

They fall asleep with their arms around each other.

*******************************

Mira hates Bed Bath & Beyond. She hates Sephora and Victoria's Secret, hates Forever 21, and Strawberry. She hates all the stupid stores in the Columbus Circle Mall, hates the glass windows, the fountain across the mall, the blonds walking past her. She hates Chadara for never keeping just one perfume, for changing her shampoo so often that now everything makes Mira sick. She can't look at strawberries without wanting to cry and throw shit at her wall. She can't stand Starbucks because Chadara loved to order lattes and sit in the chairs, watching people walk by outside.

Every trip these past two weeks to the farmer's market on 14th street has been filled with Chadara's laughter, her voice in Mira's ear suggesting that the cheese probably came from the cows on Chadara's farm. Mira quit buying organic out of spite, goes to the little grocery store on the corner of her street. When she can't find what she's looking for, she crosses over to Atlantic avenue and goes to Key Foods, tosses whatever she can find into her basket and pays. She tries not to linger by the asparagus or by the tea kettle section, or the strawberries, the dairy section. She just tries not to linger.

Mira knows it's not healthy when she starts seeing Chadara in every blonde girl wearing sundresses and boots. The first time it happens, Mira is coming out of starbucks on 60th street and Columbus Circle. The girl walks past, a bag thrown over her left shoulder, and her laughter, the smell of her perfume; it's all Chadara. Mira is halfway down the block when the girl turns, the wind sweeping her hair away from her face. Her nose is too long, her eyes too dark to be Chadara's. The roots of her darker hair are starting to show through the dye.

Mira stops in the middle of the street, her heart thumping away in her heart. Her breath comes out harsh and painful even as people swerve to avoid her. The pain in her chest is strange, too new for her to know what do with it. She has to excuse herself, push to the edge of the street as if she's waiting for one of the million yellow taxi cabs. 

*******************************

"What happened?" Chadara asks, her eyes wide when she sees the blood running down Mira's leg.

"Nothing," Mira says through gritted teeth.

"I fell" sounds stupid even to her, so she just limps the few steps to the kitchen and turns on the faucet. There are paper towels on the counter behind her, in the steel holder Chadara picked up from the Dollar Store. 

"You need to sit," Chadara's voice comes from over Mira's shoulder. 

Mira ignores her and takes three paper towels. She runs them under the faucet and does her best at mopping up the blood trailing down the front of her leg. Her knee feels numb, stings when she passes the paper towel over the cut.

"I'm fine," she assures Chadara. "I just need a bandaid."

Chadara sighs. She takes the paper towels from Mira and tugs on her hand until Mira follows her. They go to the living room, and Chadara pushes until Mira sits down on their leather couch. The curtains are closed today, the room a lot darker than Mira's used to. 

"Wait here," Chadara says, before she's gone.

When she comes back, Mira's lying down on the couch, her arm over her eyes.

"What'd you get?" Mira asks, peeking at Chadara, who comes over to kneel in front of the couch by Mira's left knee.

Chadara doesn't say anything as she opens the peroxide, dips a cotton ball in it , and presses it to Mira's knee. Mira hisses through her teeth, glares before she can stop it. Chadara gives her an unimpressed look and goes back to dabbing away blood.

Mira frowns down at the hole in her stocking as Chadara widens it to tapes gauze over the cut. Mira ruined a good pair of stockings falling down outside of the apartment. She'd hit her knee on the raised steps leading to the door and opened her knee on either glass or plastic. She didn't bother to check.

"Do you think it'll get infected?" she asks Chadara. "Scarred? I need to wear skirts for work. What if it scars?"

"I have scars," Chadara says, shrugging. "They're not that big of a deal."

Mira raises a disbelieving eyebrow at Chadara. "Where?" she asks, her eyes scanning Chadara's arms, the side of her face that Mira can see from where she's lying on the couch. 

Chadara gets up and pulls up the skirt of her dress up a bit. Mira is distracted a moment by the muscles on Chadara's calves, the smooth pale skin of Chadara's thighs.

"On my knee," Chadara says, shaking her skirt in Mira's face. "Pay attention."

Mira sighs, smiles at Chadara's laugh, and looks. There's a long raised line starting from the bottom of Chadara's knee going diagonally to the left. Mira frowns at it, her fingers tracing the raised skin. She'd never noticed before.

"How'd you get it?"

"I fell," Chadara says.

"And?" Mira asks when Chadara doesn't elaborate.

Chadara grins. "Then I got up."

"Shut up," Mira says, rolling her eyes, and twisting away from Chadara. The cut on Mira's knee stings and Mira swears she can feel the skin tearing again.

"It hurts," she complains, turning over on her back again.

"Oh, poor baby," Chadara murmurs planting a long, loud kiss on Mira's cheek. "I'll make it better."

*******************************

It's been three months since Chadara left, and Mira still hasn't gotten the courage to go through Chadara's drawers. She knows there will be things still in there because she keeps finding little things Chadara forget to take with her. The bottles of shampoo, face wash, and body wash are still in the bathroom, lined up along the inner edge of the tub next to Mira's things. Chadara's toothbrush is still in the green cup Chadara kept in the bathroom. The toothpaste is the only thing of Chadara's that Mira used, _that_ , and Chadara's pillow.

Mira hasn't left their apartment—just _her_ apartment now—except to go to work and pick up things she needs. Nasir and Naevia have been trying to get her to go out non-stop, though neither of them has come over with a pack of beer, and for that, Mira is grateful. She doesn't want anyone in her apartment yet, not until she's ready for the memories of Chadara to start dimming. Alcohol, Mira thinks, is also the last thing she should be having right now, when she's not fully in control of herself.

She's sitting at her kitchen table looking at the apartment across from theirs, at the bus that pasess every ten minutes, at the occasional person walking along the street. Mira's fingers are tracing the outer edge of the table when Nasir calls. 

"Let's go to Times Square," he says. "We'll watch a movie."

Mira almost tells him no, but then she remembers Chadara, how happy they'd been that day.

"Okay," she says. "Let's go."

*******************************

Chadara has soft hands and blue eyes that wrinkle in the corners when she smiles. She is gorgeous, endless waves of blonde hair, winks, and smiles. Mira loves her because Chadara loves her back, because it's so easy to love love. The wild release, the thing that makes her heart beat loud against her chest. Mira loves Chadara because Chadara looks at her and sees something whole, someone beautiful and strong. Mira's never been strong.

"We should go see a movie," Chadara says. "At the AMC on forty second street."

Mira shakes her head and moves out of the way of the tourists trying to take a picture in the middle of the street. "Times Square is always too crowded. We should go to the one by thirty second and second avenue."

Chadara rolls her eyes, but hurries to catch up, her bag bouncing off her hip. "That's the point, right? I'm the tourist. You're supposed to show me around the city like a tourist."

"You're not a tourist. You know too much."

"Doesn't mean I've ever actually been to all the places. I just know because my mother used to talk about them."

They're on fiftieth street, on seventh avenue, eight blocks from the movie theater. Mira turns around and Chadara is standing in the middle of the street, right in the way off the crowd of people. There are some who glare and pass close enough that their bags bump against Chadara's shoulder. 

"Come on," Mira says, taking Chadara's hand and pulling her along. 

She's taking both of them to the stupid movie theater before she even notices. Chadara doesn't know, or maybe she does—Mira doesn't know what to expect from her anymore. But they walk, holding hands so that they don't get separated in the crowd. It's a Friday afternoon and the streets are packed the closer they get to forty second, but Chadara is humming as she walks along.

"You have nice hands," Chadara says, as they walk past Madame Toussaint's Wax Museum. 

Mira rolls her eyes because she forgets to put lotion on her hands and she hasn't filed or cut her nails since she quit her job. Chadara wrinkles her nose at Mira in response, the smile taking the sting out of the gesture. Mira grins back at her, neither of them letting go as Mira buys their tickets from the machines lining the movie theater lobby walls.

They go see _We're the Millers_. They're on the fifth floor, theater 10, which is almost empty. Mira and Chadara take the middle seats of the back row, a bag of popcorn on Chadara's lap and a large soda on the armrest between them. They fight over the buttered popcorn on top, giggling quietly as the previews play.

Mira is surprised at how easy it is with Chadara, how she much fun she's having sitting in a dark movie theater.

"Jennifer Aniston is hot," Chadara whispers during the opening scene.

"I'm hotter," Mira whispers back.

Chadara throws popcorn at Mira's hair in response, but she doesn't disagree, and Mira counts it as a win.

*******************************

"We should go see a Broadway show," Nasir says when Mira meets him in front of the AMC on forty second. 

They're leaning against the gray wall next to the theater doors, pressed as far away from the rushing crowd making their way down the street as they can be. Mira glances at the flashing lights from the theater across the street, the advertisements along the top of the buildings down the street. She sees an ad for _Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark_ and one for the return of Twinkies. Usually she wouldn't pay attention to the ads, but she can remember the way Chadara's eyes had followed all the lights and the shapes of the buildings when they'd gone to the movie theater together. Chadara always had that awed look, as though a year in the city wasn't enough time for the magic of New York City to fade.

"I don't like Broadway," Mira says. 

"Why not?" Nasir asks, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

Mira shrugs, trying to burrow into her scarf. "Bad memories," she says.

*******************************

"We should go to a Broadway show," Chadara suggests on a Sunday afternoon.

Mira is sitting at their kitchen table, a Microsoft Word document with her resume opened up on her laptop. She's editing the job experience section, adding Capua Inc. to her list of previous employers. She writes down Spartacus as a reference because he owes her even if he doesn't want to see her again. She was just as good at her job as he was and she was his best employee when he was promoted. The least he can do for her is give a good recommendation when her potential future employers call.

There's a list of potential jobs on the notepad next to Mira's laptop. She knows she's overqualified for half of the jobs, and at least qualified for the others. It's a good thing because she and Chadara have been living on Mira's savings account and Chadara's meager salary for almost two weeks. Knowing that makes Mira's skin itch, and she needs another cup of coffee even though she's already finished her first and the kettle isn't even cold yet.

"Hey, Mira," Chadara calls again from the living room.

Mira looks up at from her laptop, sees Chadara sitting on their couch through the doorway connecting the kitchen and their living room. Chadara has a brochure for _The Lion King_ and she nods at Mira, her expression expectant. 

"We can't," Mira answers, opening up a new word doc for her cover letter.

"Why not?" Chadara asks. "You need a break from work, anyway."

Mira breathes out through her nose. "I don't," she says. Mira doesn't have a job and Chadara knows it, doesn't need to bring it up every fucking time they talk.

"It'll be fun," Chadara is saying. "I heard from Duro that it's so good we'll end up going every year." 

"We don't have the money," Mira says, though, if she's being honest, they do. She's just doesn't like the uncertainty that comes with being unemployed, or the fact that if she doesn't get something soon, she'll be completely dependent on Chadara.

"We have enough," Chadara says. "I make enough. I'll take you."

That's now what Mira wants, has never been what she wanted. She doesn't need to rely on Chadara for anything, doesn't need to rely on _anyone_ for anything. She's seen what comes from that, how trapped her mother was in a marriage she didn't want, just because she'd never had a job, because she chose to trust a man who let her down. 

Mira knows it's irrational to think this now because she's not her mother. She worked through college to get where she is now, and letting Chadara pay for one thing isn't going to take away Mira's independence. She's just angry though, because she's afraid of how easy it was to lose her job, of how fast the numbers on her bank statement dwindle, of how easy it is to trust that Chadara can and will take care of her.

Mira doesn't want to be her mother.

"It's not like you're contributing much to this apartment anyway," Mira snaps, narrowing her eyes at Chadara. "Not with the shitty job you have."

"I pay the rent the same as you," Chadara says, and the calmness in her voice just makes Mira angrier.

"Yeah, because you let me buy everything else for you. And I don't hear you complaining about paying for your shit when I buy you things."

The words are barely out of her mouth when Mira realizes what a mistake they are. She sounds like her father, entitled and accusing, when he was the one who promised Mira's mother would never have to work a day in her life. Mira's mother had never fought back the way Mira wanted her to, had never made Mira's father see her as a person. 

Mira doesn't want to be her father, either.

Chadara glares, her mouth open in disbelieving rage. "What do you think this is, Mira?" 

Mira knows she's fucked up because Chadara's voice has gone soft and low."I didn't mean," she starts, wanting to say that it's the pressure from being unemployed, the lack of sleep, too much coffee. Anything to get them back to happy and away from the argument that's coming because of Mira.

"You think I'm just another fucking gold digger," Chadara says, ignoring Mira's attempt at an apology. "That I just stand around looking pretty so that you buy me things? Or that I whore myself out to you so you'll let me stay?" 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Mira says, getting up from her chair. She makes her way into the living room, but Chadara gets up too and moves away. "Babe, please," Mira says.

"What the fuck did you mean then?"

Mira sighs. "I just meant that we need to balance expenses in case I don't get a job soon. My savings need to last us at least three month, and your paycheck has to make up for the rest. I need to practice for my interviews, give Nasir a call and see if he can set me up with someone. Then I need to make sure that everything is perfect for my interview tomorrow, that I am as close to perfect as possible. It's a lot of shit to deal with, Chadara."

Mira won't tell Chadara about how she's afraid of not being enough, of being too complacent like her mother and letting others take control of her. Of how she's afraid her genes will be stronger than her own desire to be the right person. The person who balances work and home, who has a career and kids, who gives and takes in equal measures. The person who someone won't mind spending their lives with.

"You're not perfect," Chadara says, throwing her hands up. "You're really not, Mira."

Mira stares. It stings like a slap to the face to hear the person who's supposed to love her tell her that. 

"I know I'm not perfect," Mira starts.

"No you don't," Chadara tells her. "You really don't. And you're not going to be unemployed for three months. You'll either get the job on Monday or you'll get another one, and you'll be _fine_."

"You don't know that," Mira says, through gritted teeth.

No one knows that. Not even Mira.

"Oh no," Chadara says, shaking her head. "Don't you fucking dare get angry at me. Don't. Not when I fucking told you how much I hated hearing all that shit growing up."

"I didn't call you a gold digger, Chadara. That was you."

Chadara narrows her eyes, the red on her cheeks brighter. "I don't need this," she says. "You're obviously too fucking important to apologize to a country whore with a shitty job."

Mira feels terror ride up next to the fear already burning in her throat. She says nothing as Chadara snatches her sweater from the couch and walks out the living room. Mira hears the door slam shut, the locks clicking shut from the outside, and then nothing. She breathes in deep and goes back to her laptop, fear disguised as anger still singing in her veins.

*******************************

"The rockettes are probably doing shows already, if you want to go to Radio City Music Hall," Nasir suggests.

Mira stuffs her hands into her pockets. "Let's just walk," she says. 

Nasir's eyes are sad when he looks at her, but he reaches out to take her hand and she lets him. They walk hand in hand, navigating their way through the huge mass of bodies that is Times Square. Mira doesn't have a destination in mind. She wants to get away, to forget that she's been here already, that she was happy on these streets once even if she hadn't realized it at the time.

She can't.

*******************************

There is only one restaurant on 39th street between 8th and 9th avenue. It's a Mexican restaurant called Rinconcito Mexicano, and Mira did not take enough Spanish anywhere to know what the first word means. The restaurant is tucked into the right side of 39th street, underneath an old brick building, and in between Chase bank and a Comfort Inn. The glass on the windows is too dirty, the lights too dim inside for Mira to get a good look. She turns her head to the left, down the street, to see if there isn't any other restaurant she missed, but half the street is closed off and covered in scaffolding.

She takes a deep breath, tucks Chadara's sweater more firmly under her arm, and goes inside. Chadara is sitting on the table in front of the cash register, at the front part of the restaurant. Further back, past the bar, there are more tables, yellow light from the lamps making it appear late in the afternoon inside too. Chadara is talking to the cook, her smile wide as she tells him about her trip to Times Square.

Mira watches her until Chadara notices her and waves.

"You knew exactly where this restaurant was," Mira says by way of greeting. "But you didn't know where Times Square was? I call bullshit."

"You're tired," Chadara tells her. She's smiling, the corner of her eyes crinkling with it, and Mira can't look away. 

Chadara holds her hand out, the smile teasing as she shakes Mira's hand. "Sit," she says.

Mira slides into the chair and lets her heels bounce off her chair's legs. She _is_ tired, her calves aching from walking around looking for job adverts in the nearby bank offices on 40th street. She'd had to go pick up her things from her old office too, and avoiding Spartacus seems to have drained her more than she expected.

"I brought you your sweater," Mira says, handing it over. "Thanks."

Chadara nods. "No problem. I didn't need it, and it gave me a good excuse to see you again."

Mira can feel a blush burning on her cheeks. "How'd you know about the restaurant?"

"You're not letting me flirt," Chadara says, amused. "But you're interested."

"Oh?" Mira asks, letting herself smile. "How do you figure?"

Chadara bites her lower lip and stares at Mira from under her eyelashes. "You're here."

Mira _is_ here, even though she just quit her job, and even though it's only been a month since Spartacus left her. She looks at Chadara's smile, at the red on her cheek. Mira thinks her being here boils down to the fact that there's a pretty girl flirting with her, and Mira's dealt with enough in the last month that she thinks she deserves this. She wants to flirt with pretty blonde tourists so she's going to, and Chadara is right. Mira _is_ interested.

"Point," she says leaning forward across the table.

Chadara mimics her. "So, Mira. Where are you from?"

"Brooklyn," Mira says. "I bought an apartment in a four floor brownstone near Atlantic avenue."

Chadara shakes her head. "I have no idea where that is."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'll take you by one day."

"I'd like that."

They stare at each other from across the table, neither of them wanting to break eye contact. It's been so long since Mira's let herself flirt with a girl, longer since she's flirted with pretty blondes with gorgeous eyes and mischievous expressions. It feels good, different, after Spartacus, liberating in its own way.

"Where do you come from?" Mira asks.

But Chadara doesn't get to answer right away, because their waitress shows up from the back of the restaurant. She hands them a menu each, speaks in rapid Spanish to the cook, apologizes to Mira and Chadara and asks them if they'd like anything to drink. Mira orders water and Chadara gets a coke.

"I'm from upstate New York," Chadara says, scanning her menu. "A little town called Avon, near Rochester."

Mira shakes her head.

"Basically, I grew up on a farm."

"How'd you end up in New York City, then?"

Chadara shuts her menu, orders nachos and guacamole when the waitress comes back. Mira gets the chicken salad.

"I have a friend named Duro who moved down here with his brother, Agron. He's the one who found me a job in a clothing store. Also, this is _New York City_. As soon as there was a chance, I came down here."

"I forget how excited tourists are about the city," Mira teases.

"I'm not a tourist," Chadara says, rolling her eyes. "I was conceived in New York City. On 9th avenue in Brooklyn."

"Really?"

Chadara gives an exaggerated nod. "Really," she says. "My parents met when my mom came down here for college. They went to Brooklyn College together, and she got pregnant during her second semester. 

Mira does her best to keep her expression neutral. "So they moved in together?"

"My mom loved my dad, but he was a city guy and she missed her parents," Chadara says. "She went back home and he stayed here. They lost contact after a year. She hasn't heard from him since."

Mira frowns. "Didn't your mom tell him he had a daughter?"

"I guess he didn't care, but that's okay," Chadara says. "People have to do what they need to do to be happy. I'm happy and I didn't need a father for that."

Mira nods. "But what happened to your mom?" she asks. "What did your grandparents say?"

"Avon's a small conservative town. My mom was a pretty girl with a baby and no husband," Chadara shrugs. "Gram and Gran didn't care, but the people in town called her and me all the names you can think of. They still do. I got tired of listening to them so I left."

"I'm sorry," Mira says.

"Don't be."

-

Chadara talks about things without qualms, and Mira envies her the freedom with which she does it.

"There was this one guy," Chadara says.

They're lying on their bed, Mira on the edge closest to the door. Chadara is in the middle, her hands on her stomach, eyes on the ceiling. She smells like strawberry shampoo and fabric softener. 

"His name was Nasir," she goes on, and Mira closes her eyes to listen. "He was my only friend back at school. I kind of hate him."

"Why?" 

Mira can feel Chadara's shrug, and she shifts closer, rests her head on Chadara's shoulder. 

"Because he was my friend, but he moved away, and then it was just me and the girls who hated me. So I heard all this crap about me and there was no one to take my hand and tell me they were all just jealous." 

"You don't think it's my Nasir, right?" Mira asks.

Chadara shrugs. "I wouldn't be able to remember him now anyway. I tried to forget the fucker. He didn't even say goodbye."

Chadara's arm is warm around Mira's shoulders. She snuggles in closer, throwing an arm around Chadara's waist to keep her close. "What happened after he left?" she asks.

"The kids called me all the names they could come up with," Chadara says, the tips of her fingers skimming over Mira's cheekbones.

"And?"

"None of them fit."

Mira moves away to look Chadara in the eyes. She sees humor there, not a sign of the sadness Mira feels every time they're together. "What?" she asks.

Chadara smiles, dimples pronounced on her face. "None of them. Fit."

"What does that even mean?"

Chadara laughs, a sweet little thing that makes Mira sadder than she has any right to be. It's carefree still, none of the terrors of the world hidden in there. Chadara is like that, all bright innocence, even when she's been called a worthless whore. Mira envies her for it, hates her sometimes because of it. Because Chadara is short dresses and stereotypes, but Chadara doesn't care. And Mira thinks it would be easier that way, to just give in to what her bosses want from her, to put on the short skirts and be the fucking secretary. It pisses her off to even contemplate it, but that's Chadara's fault too, because she _makes_ Mira think about. 

"It means," Chadara says, rolling over until she's leaning over Mira. "That I did sleep around, but I wasn't a slut. I do prefer girls, but I've dated boys. The people I dated gave me nice things, but I wasn't a gold digger. That's what it means."

"How do you do it?" Mira asks. "How do are you so okay with who you are?"

"I just am," Chadara says. "Life is easier this way."

Mira knows Chadara will be okay, because Chadara is charming, and even when she's lost, she never really is. Chadara is wide smiles and a whirlwind of feelings, thoughts posted on her sleeve, expressions genuine. She's a country girl, but more fit for the city than Mira will ever be. Because Chadara loved her low paying job while Mira just grew bitter at her better paying one. Chadara carries nothing on her shoulders, but has been through all the crap that breaks a person. Chadara is beautifully whole, lost until she finds her place, but once she does. Once she does, Chadara is everything Mira once was as a girl.

And Mira doesn't deserve Chadara, because Mira carries a broken heart in her chest, and the entire world on her shoulders. Mira has a place, but never really belongs anywhere. She's fighting tooth and nail to break a system that's been around for hundreds of years, and it's killing who she is. She gets lost in between the anger, forgets that even though other people fight in different ways, they're still fighting.

*******************************

Six months after Chadara leaves, Mira gets a new job, a permanent one at Bank of America. Mira is Vice President six months after that, with a salary that would make her parents proud. She buys an apartment in Park Slope, five blocks from Naevia's place. It's the hipster part of the neighborhood, the side with the arts and crafts stores and the organic coffee shops that Chadara liked so much. 

Nasir, and his boyfriend, Agron, go with her. Mira is happy for them, for Nasir. Agron is good to him and Mira's not the only one who can see how much the two adore each other. There's no raw pain in her chest when she catches them kissing, or smiling at each other now. It's a dull ache, like the fading memory of a root canal.

The apartment is on the second floor of the brownstone, the door opening into the living room. The kitchen is stainless steel, with granite counter tops, and polished wooden cabinets. There's a working light and fan above the stove to get rid of excess smoke. The dining room is big enough to fit all of her friends comfortably, enough to fit two tables if Mira wanted. There are two bedrooms, wide open spaces, with their own bathrooms, windows that take up most of one wall, and walk-in closets. Mira will even have a washing machine and a dryer in her apartment, behind the closet door in the hallway between the bedrooms.

"I like it," Mira tells Nasir and Agron. "It's me. Big enough for all of you people and the kids."

"Where are you going to get kids?" Agron asks, sticking his head into the walk-in closet.

Mira stares pointedly and winks. 

"I'm telling Duro you called him a kid," Agron says. 

Nasir laughs, but Mira looks away. She likes the view out of the bedroom windows: grass from the backyard and the back of the other brownstones.

"Has he heard from her?" Mira asks.

"He won't say," Agron tells her. "I'm sorry."

She nods. "I just want to know if she's okay."

"I know," Nasir says, bumping the side of his head softly against Mira's. "I know."

-

Mira finds the picture because she starts packing. It's the one they paid twenty dollars for when they went to the Empire State building. The corners are folded, but Mira takes it, smoothing it out on top of the packed boxes so she can look at it.

*******************************

In the end, Chadara is the brave one. 

She packs her bag on a Saturday morning, the last day of the heat wave hitting New York City. Their windows are closed against the outside heat, their old air conditioner at 76 and on energy saver. Chadara doesn't say anything as she goes from her closet to the suitcase on their bed—just _a_ bed now. She folds sundresses and tucks them into the spaces between the things already in the suitcase.

Mira just sits on the chair by the air conditioner, the corner furthest from Chadara. She wants to say so many things but doesn't know how to start. Chadara starts picking up the scattered clothes on the floor, puts those in too, and Mira sits. 

The last thing Chadara grabs before shutting her suitcase is the framed picture of the two of them from their third date, when Chadara insisted that they go to the Empire State Building. Mira sees it, sees the smile Chadara has in the picture, the way she tilts her head towards Mira, the absolute peace on her face. 

"Don't take it," Mira says, and it's not what she wanted to say, but it's what comes out. "Please, don't. I...just don't."

Chadara sighs, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips. She puts the picture down and Mira breathes again, her exhale loud even over the sounds of the air conditioner. 

*******************************

Chadara's smile in the photo is the one Mira remembers the most, because it's the one she's focused on remembering, the real one. It's the one that makes the dimple appear on Chadara's cheek, the one that makes her cheeks turn red, and her eyes wrinkle in the corners. Chadara has her brown sundress on, the one Mira met her in. And even though it doesn't show in the picture, the two of them are holding hands, fingers entwined and the two of them pressed as close to each other as they could get.

She and Chadara had her bad moments.

*******************************

"You don't have to destroy the world," Chadara tells her.

Mira just shakes harder, pulls her anger around her to protect herself. She is angry at the man who blew her off because she was a woman and therefore somehow inferior. She's angry that she was offered a secretarial job when she qualifies for more.

"Just because you're okay with everyone walking all over you, doesn't mean I am," she snarls.

Chadara doesn't let go of her and Mira wishes she would. She wishes she didn't have to come home to this every day, to Chadara singing in the kitchen, to the folded blankets in their room. She wants an empty apartment, one where she doesn't have to worry about disappointing anyone besides herself.

"You have to learn that if you want to change the way things are, sometimes you have to go against what you believe in," Chadara says. "Sometimes, you have to take the shitty jobs to get the good ones."

Mira kisses her because Chadara hits all of Mira's insecurities every single time, and Mira doesn't want to talk about it. She tangles her fingers in Chadara's long hair knowing that everyone and everything has hurt Chadara, and that Mira is going to hurt her too. They kiss, lazy, and familiar in the middle of the kitchen. The kettle whistles in the background, but when Chadara goes to turn it off, Mira pulls her closer. There's cherry chapstick on the corner of Mira's mouth, hands at her waist, and laughter breathed against her face.

Still, it isn't enough, and Mira wishes with everything she has that, one day, it will be.

-

Chadara is on the floor of their bedroom, her hair spilling out across the carpet, windows open to let the nonexistent summer breeze in. She has her eyes closed against the sunlight spilling across her face. Mira's heart aches as she reaches out, her fingers skimming up Chadara's legs, past the hummingbird tattooed on her ankle. 

"You're home early," Chadara smiles, her eyes still closed.

"Yeah," Mira says, and she wishes Chadara would look at her. "I am."

"Hungry?"

Mira makes noncommittal sound and lets her eyes wander over Chadara. 

"Stop looking so hard," Chadara says, but when Mira looks up, Chadara's eyes are still closed.

"How do you know I'm looking at you?"

"You're always looking at me," Chadara says, opening her eyes and sitting up. She's inches away from Mira, her flowery perfume making Mira's head spin. Chadara's face is warm beneath Mira's fingers, her cheeks bright red from the heat. 

"You always look at me," Chadara repeats, looking at Mira through her eyelashes. "You just never see me."

-

Mira doesn't say what she's thinking: that Chadara could do so much better, that one day someone is going to accept Chadara the way she is and never pressure her. And Chadara will forget Mira, because Chadara is so much more even if Mira doesn't understand how yet.

-

"You're not here," Chadara whispers, her fingers sliding through Mira's hair. 

The touch is too soft, delicate, as though Chadara is afraid that Mira will disappear. It makes Mira angry, because she is here. She is real and she wants Chadara to understand that, to just _get_ it. So Mira steps close and kisses her, hard enough to bruise. She kisses Chadara until they're backed against the bedroom wall, hands in hair, and eyes closed tight against everything. Mira tells Chadara she's here through kisses, rougher than Chadara deserves, but this is all Mira can give her. 

This is all Mira knows how to give.

*******************************

But, she and Chadara had their good moments too.

*******************************

Mira comes home from her first interview of the month, ready to jump on Chadara and kiss her until they're both breathless and laughing. She has a job, a boss who says she sees great things for Mira, and a girl waiting for her at home. 

She finds Chadara lying across their bed along the shorter edge, her blonde curls hanging over the side of the bed. Chadara has her hands on her stomach, her eyes focused on the ceiling. She smiles when Mira climbs onto the bed with her, shifts her lower body a bit to get more comfortable. Mira lies on her side, her eyes on the soft curve of Chadara's mouth when she smiles and the red around Chadara's cheekbones. Mira breathes in Chadara's strawberry shampoo and fabric softener.

"Hey," she says.

Chadara rolls over on her side so that she's looking at Mira. Her eyes look soft gray in the dim light from the setting sun.

"Hi," Chadara smiles, her hand coming to rest on Mira's hip. 

"I got a job," Mira says, biting her lip as she waits for Chadara's reaction.

Chadara just stares for a moment, her eyes roaming over Mira's face. Mira can't tell what Chadara is looking for, but she must find it, because then Chadara is grinning. Her smile is the one Mira rarely sees, one that shows the dimples on Chadara's cheeks and the lines around her eyes. 

If Mira had stopped to think about why she rarely saw Chadara smile like that, maybe she would have seen their ending coming. But she doesn't think about it then because Chadara climbs over her and kisses her, presses Mira into the sheets.

"That's great," Chadara tells her between kisses.

Mira nods her agreement, her hands pushing back Chadara's hair so she can look into those frustrating eyes. They're blue now, the happiness still shining from them as Chadara looks at Mira, and it's good. It's so good to have someone who will celebrate with Mira, someone who kisses like they mean it, someone who doesn't want to go.

*******************************

And if there's one thing Mira learned from Chadara it's that even when things go to shit, people have to keep going.

*******************************

"The world is a mess," Chadara says, her eyes out the window of the apartment. She's staring at the three windows across from their kitchen window, maybe at the brick wall, or the cables wires that run up the sides of the building. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail held with a blue rubber band that Mira saw around the bundle of asparagus they bought earlier. 

"Yeah," Mira says and she takes the seat across from Chadara.

Chadara smiles, her eyes focused on something farther away than brick walls. 

"What?" Mira asks. "I thought you said the world was a mess."

Chadara nods, "Yeah," she says. "It is."

"And that's why you're so happy?"

A nod.

Mira looks out the window, at the bricks that make up this apartment. There are cars running in the street in front of their apartment, catcalls from the people down there. She hears the growl of the bus engine as it passes their street, every ten minutes another bus. She wants to see what Chadara sees, the mess of a world, and the reason for the smile. 

"At least you can get around messes," Chadara says finally.

*******************************

Mira looks at the mess in the apartment, the one that was hers and Chadara's home. It's bigger without the furniture in it, empty without Chadara's laughter to fill it. This is the last time Mira will be here, and she runs her hands over the walls, stands where her black futon used to be. 

It's funny, Mira thinks, as she walks around the apartment, that she doesn't remember if she was sad, or happy, or angry, or tired during the flashes of memories she gets. All she remembers is Chadara's laugh, the way she'd pick out the carrots from the frozen mixed vegetables, the way Chadara would hit her pen against her thumbnail when she was distracted. Mira remembers the little looks they exchanged when their friends visited, secret messages that only they understood. She remembers how sad Chadara got towards the end, how Mira wouldn't have missed it if she'd been paying more attention.

She goes back to their bedroom, picks up the photo of them. It's not funny, she reconsiders. It's sad. 

She makes to put the photo in her purse. She misses and it falls on the floor, photo side down. Mira looks at it, the blue writing a stark contrast to the white of the photograph paper. It's a note from Chadara.

_917-328-0023  
Call me._  


Mira leans down to pick up the photo. She can taste the fear in the back of her throat, but louder than that is the overwhelming hope. It's what floors her, making her breath come out in gasps. She can almost see Chadara's teasing smile, the way she'd wink, almost daring Mira to call.

Mira's hands are shaking when she pulls out her cellphone, but her fingers are steady as she punches in the phone number. Her heart beats out a rapid rhythm at the base of Mira's throat as the phone rings. When she hears the click signaling a connection, Mira stops breathing.

" _Hello_ ," Chadara's voicemail says, and Chadara's voice is enough to make Mira want to cry. " _This is Chadara. I'm currently in the Oasis Guest House in Boston. Room 3487. I'll be here until a week from today. If you want to talk, come find me_."

The message ends and Mira hears the sharp beep prompting her to leave a message.

"Wait for me," Mira says, voice hoarse. "I'll be there in four hours, max."

She hangs up, dazed. Her phone feels too heavy in her hand, the photograph a hindrance with its weight when she stands up. Mira looks at the boxes in her apartment, at the conveniently packed suitcase with a week's worth of clothes. She'd figured that's how long it'd take to unpack properly if she factored in procrastination time.

Mira sits on the box labeled "winter clothes," trying to slow down her heart. The more she calms down, the more hopeless the situation becomes. Chadara left the message on the back of the photo a year ago. As far as Mira knows, the voicemail is also from a year ago. And even if it isn't, even if Chadara is in Boston, there's no guarantee that Chadara wants to start over. There's nothing preventing Chadara from being with another girl, one who loves her and wasn't afraid to say it. If Mira goes there's a very real possibility that she'll get hurt. But then Mira looks at the picture of them, how Mira herself has never looked happier, how Chadara just _fits_ next to Mira, and she calls Nasir. 

Then, she grabs her bag, takes the damn photo of the two of them in the stupid Empire State building, and just goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to read this fic. I am so proud of this one, and I am so happy to be allowed to share it with all of you.


End file.
